


Beyond bloodlines

by Bad_Wolf



Category: Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi
Genre: Forgiveness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 00:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15449442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Wolf/pseuds/Bad_Wolf
Summary: To Poe’s surprise, the man smiled gently, “Is that so. No thanks. I’ve done my share for the galaxy. . .” His brow pinched in the middle and he swiped at his lower lip, “To the galaxy.”That was quite enough. Poe slid off his bunk, “Sure. Now. . .” He motioned for the door. “I have to shower.”“You’re a good pilot,” said the man, his light brown hair falling over his eyes momentarily. “I used to be a good pilot, before. . .”Now Poe took a good look at the man, young man in reality.  Loose linen pants and a cloak snugly crossed over his chest, belted with a wide leather obi. A jedi.Poe leapt to his feet, his eyes smarting, mouth dropping open. “S-sir? Uhm.”The man hurriedly waved him down, “None of that. I’m not here for that. You’re not force sensitive. Can’t manipulate the energies between people. . . Can you?” He paused uncertainly, searching Poe’s eyes.Poe gets an unexpected visitor





	Beyond bloodlines

“There’s no shame in crying in front of others, you know.”

Poe yelped and scuttled back, his wall hitting the cold metal of a bulkhead. He passed a hand over his wet face, trying to get the snot out of his throat by coughing it up, then realized it would be disgusting to swallow it back down in front of this stranger. He spit the wad of phlegm into the sleeve of his dirty uniform. Blessed stars. . .

“This is my bunk and I’d appreciate if you’d leave.” The grief in his throat . . . Tallie, Nix. . .Shiaru. . . It choked him.

The man hunkered down by the wall, looking surprised at the dismissal. “You don’t know who I am.”

“No. If you’re here to join the resistance—go talk to someone else.” His mother would have _killed_ him for being so rude to a potential recruit.

To Poe’s surprise, the man smiled gently, “Is that so. No thanks. I’ve done my share for the galaxy. . .” His brow pinched in the middle and he swiped at his lower lip, “To the galaxy.”

That was quite enough. Poe slid off his bunk, “Sure. Now. . .” He motioned for the door. “I have to shower.”

“You’re a good pilot,” said the man, his light brown hair falling over his eyes momentarily. “I used to be a good pilot, before. . .”

Now Poe took a _good_ look at the man, young man in reality.  Loose linen pants and a cloak snugly crossed over his chest, belted with a wide leather obi. _A jedi_.

Poe leapt to his feet, his eyes smarting, mouth dropping open. “S-sir? Uhm.”

The man hurriedly waved him down, “None of that. I’m not _here_ for that. You’re not force sensitive. Can’t manipulate the energies between people. . . Can you?” He paused uncertainly, searching Poe’s eyes.

“No. I’m heavy to the earth,” replied Poe, grimacing as he clutching at himself, inadvertently touching where he’d spat his snot earlier.

The man’s face lit from within, “I like that. Heavy to the earth.”

“Well you know. . . Jedi—” Poe swept his hand across the air, flicking his fingers.

“Oh! You mean this.” The young man made the same motion and Poe’s helmet went flying across the room, smacking into the opposite wall.

“Y-yes that. Uhm, are you here _here_?”

The man cocked an eyebrow, amusement thinning his lips. “Because you’re a good pilot. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” said Poe bitterly, slumping onto his bed, “Not always.” He noted the man didn’t answer his question.

The man looked thoughtful. “Yes. I used to run into that problem too.” He sighed heavily, his eyelids flickering heavily, his throat working with some emotion that laid heavy on his heart. “Neither do light sabers,” he added quietly.

“It’s just— I’m not a strategy guy! I’m a—I’m a shooting guy! Action and _moving_ ,” His boots clanked heavily on the softer bouncy material of the room. “I can’t— The _waiting—_ _planning--_ ! _”_ Poe stopped abruptly, whirling on the stranger, “Who are you!” He stalked closer, out of patience. “Get _out_.”

“Call me Annie.” And the young man was gone.


End file.
